


How the Tides Have Turned

by Ishxallxgood



Category: The Iliad - Homer, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Achilles also has no chill, Childhood Friends to Lovers, M/M, POV Outsider, Thetis POV, Thetis has no chill, Thetis is a good mom, Thetis redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28701270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishxallxgood/pseuds/Ishxallxgood
Summary: Thetis has had three millennia to dwell upon the relationship of her Achilles and his Patroclus. In the end she decides that yes, Patroclus was good for Achilles.When the fates decide to reincarnate her son in the twentieth century AD she decides that she will do everything in her power to ensure the lovers are reunited. Because if her son deservesanythingit's happiness.This is Thetis redemption fic because I really love her character in mythology and she's not quite the cold hearted bitch MM made her out to me :)
Relationships: Achilles & Thetis (Song of Achilles), Achilles/Patroclus, Achilles/Patroclus (Song of Achilles), Patroclus & Thetis (Song of Achilles)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 107





	How the Tides Have Turned

**Author's Note:**

> not beta'd we post like men (that said if you see any glaring mistakes please hmu)

Well then, let me tell you a story. 

Once upon a time there was a goddess of the sea named Thetis, leader of the Nereids. Through a series of unfortunate events, and vile god and a pitiful man, she gave birth to a son. A son of whom the fates had prophesied would be greater than his father, half-god half-mortal and full of blinding light. To preserve her son, Thetis dipped him in the River Styx, rendering him nearly invincible, save for his ankle where she held him. He was her everything, her life and her love, and it was her wish that he would remain with her forever, immortalized.

Unfortunately, because the boy was half mortal, the fates would have it that this precious son of hers would be taken from her. Not by death, but by _love,_ for this son of hers was part child of the sun, and could only be made whole by the other half of his soul. In a fit of rage, she cursed his other half, a mere _boy_ who did not deserve the love and affection of her divinity. And so, she did everything in her power to preserve his godhood, to erase his humanity and elevate him to immortality.

What she didn't know back then was that it was only _through_ his humanity that he would find his _immortality._ It was through choosing life and love that he truly became _aristos achaion,_ the best of the Greeks, but in choosing life, he had inadvertently also chosen death.

There is no grief like that of a mother's, and Thetis, lost in her grief, cursed the name of Patroclus. For it was he, who stole from her her son's love and in doing so, his life. Or so she had thought.

As the years passed, and mortals fell, the name of Achilles remained. Whispered in reverence, passed down in epics and song, _Achilles_ was whispered throughout the years. And so, with his name immortalized, she found her grief abating.

When at long last, she finally found the strength to come to his grave, it was to her surprise that there she found the soul of Patroclus, trapped between the lands of the living and dead. Oh how many years have passed? How many centuries? What was time for an immortal? But Achilles, her beloved Achilles, had been haunted all this time, suffering in Elysium, missing the other half of his soul.

And so she sat. She sat and she listened, as Patroclus sang to her the song of her Achilles. His life and love, painted for her in loving words, stirred her soul, and she wept.

She wept for the beauty of their love. For the injustice of it all. For the pitiful part she had played. Her Achilles, her beautiful, beloved Achilles, all she had ever wanted for him was happiness and immortality, but she had denied him his happiness. And so, with a heavy heart and a steady hand, she learned to let him go. She, who had denied him so much in life, who was she to also deny the same in death? So she carved the missing name and painted the absent murals. She took her time immortalizing _them_ , _together._ So that for all eternity, one could not mention the name _Achilles_ without that of his Patroclus.

And thus the years continued to pass. Centuries melted into millennia, and her son, her beloved Achilles, turned from a thing of awe and legend into myth. Oh, but his name. His name was indeed remembered, _immortalized,_ and she took pride in knowing that always, _always_ whispered alongside his was the name of his _philtataos,_ his most beloved, Patroclus.

It always amused her though, how time remembered them. Sometimes as lovers, sometimes as cousins, but always as companions, as _therapon, symbolon, soulmates._ More songs were written about them, epics told, sculptures cast, paintings rendered, and through it all, it was their love and their grief that stood proud. Poets have once said that they were one soul in two bodies, and at long last she agreed.

Time, it turned out, stood still for no one. The old gods of Olympus were forgotten, lost in the waves of humanity. But Thetis, the goddess of the sea remained. Compared to the Olympians, she was insignificant. A minor god with only three temples, temples she never required. She never required the worship and sacrifice the _Olympians_ demanded. Her very existence never resided in the hands of mortals. She was a daughter of the sea. The sea gave birth to her and the sea held her. In all her life, she had only ever required the love of her Achilles.

And so, it was when she least expected it, somewhere lost in the folds of the so-called twentieth century that she found him again. Or rather the air shifted and she felt the very essence of her son returned to the land of the living. How long had she lived longing for this moment? For a chance to hold her son again, beg his forgiveness for her selfishness and the pain she had caused him. To tell him again how much she loved him, cherished him, wished nothing but the best for him. She followed him, followed the pull of his screaming soul across the ocean to a small town on the outskirts of a grand city. 

The woman bearing her son was small and slight, no more than a child herself, and so utterly alone. She reminded her of another child, with dark hair and round eyes, light feet and slender wrists. She had wronged that child once, that child who bore her Achilles' heir, a son he never wanted nor acknowledged. A son born of strife and adversity. A son she had claimed and bled the humanity out of. A son she was _ashamed_ of, who was everything her Achilles was _not._

Time had taught her that it was _because_ of Patroclus that her Achilles was immortalized as a hero he was, as a man of wonder. It was because of _her_ that Pyrrhus, Neoptolemus, fell to obscurity, for he had grown to become a scourge upon the earth and not worthy of the blood in his veins.

She tried not to think of that boy and all the ways she had failed him. She tried not to think of stealing this child from his mother, even as she felt Achilles' soul pulsing inside her. It would have been easy, so very easy to take this child. A few whispered words and a legal document would have the child made hers again. It would have been _wrong._ How could she possibly seek to right the wrongs of her past by stealing yet another child?

In the end, her intervention was unnecessary. The girl did not survive the birth of Achilles (for what mortal could?), and with no family, no father, it was easy for her to claim the child as her own. And so it came to pass, that her son was once again in hers.

As she held the little babe in her arms, she swore that she shall not fail him this time. That she would ensure that he found happiness, not glory. So she prayed to whatever gods still existed that the fates would not be so cruel to bring her son back and not his other half. She whispered blessings over the babe and sought a happier life for him this time around.

She searched the stars, she worked to untangle the threads. She looked and she looked, but there was no prophecy this time around. There was nothing but a faint thread of red, wrapped around her son's finger which led out west and into the unknown. She would follow it through. She would follow it to the ends of the earth, for at the other end she _knew_ resided the other half of his soul. She would _not_ make the same mistakes this time around. She would _not_ lose her son again. 

"Achilles, oh my Achilles," she breathed into the night air. "You my little love, shall be the first hero to ever be happy."

The thread took her to California, to a small coastal town tucked between the cities of Los Angeles and San Diego. It was a small military town and she hated it, so she went thirty miles south and settled down in a house overlooking the Pacific.

Achilles was five the first time they met. 

There was an event down in San Diego, a fundraiser, with a fun run for the kids. There was no pressure to win, just to run, but even so, her Achilles flew like the wind. At five years of age, he still out paced children twice his age.

He didn't see his Patroclus there, he only had eyes for her, but she saw. The little boy with skin of polished bronze and dark curls, with big owl-eyes and a dazzling smile. The little boy tethered to her Achilles with a vibrant thread of red. He was not fast, middling at most, too far behind her Achilles to meet. So she sent a prayer up to Zephyr, and Zephyr, delighting in her worship, sent a gale under the boy's feet. 

He finished just shy of her Achilles and collided into his back. Their eyes met and they knew each other instantly, even though they were far too young to understand. She watched with a smile as they clasped hands and laughed. Achilles had him in an embrace and she could tell that if he had his way, he'd never let him go.

Unfortunately Patroclus' father found them before she had a chance to intervene. He was an imposing man, but not unkind. Military by the looks of his uniform, an officer, someone of importance. He greeted her Achilles and clapped his son on the back with an abrupt word of praise before whisking him away. 

Achilles wailed. 

He was inconsolable as the thread stretched thin and paled. She was delighted to know that he existed. She was delighted to know that this time, his father was not cruel. Wrapping her arms around her crying child, she held him, whispering promises of snow cones and the surf in his ear until he calmed. 

He was still whimpering as the syrupy ice melted against his tongue. His eyes were still red as she helped him into the wetsuit. Her poor, little prince, oh how he ached. What can she offer him but the waves? She couldn't restore upon him the other half of his soul, she could only hope and pray that they would find each other again.

They rode the waves until the sun began to set, bleeding red as it painted the sky with its descent. By the time they were on solid ground again, the wet sand between their toes, Patroclus was all but forgotten, a distant memory. Achilles was once again beaming at her and she held onto that smile, tucked it away in her heart for all eternity. For at the moment, he was hers, but like all things, she knew this too shall pass. She held him close, sung to him the songs of the sea as he drifted, his soul momentarily at peace.

Achilles was barely eight when he first noticed. 

"Mom," he said, big green eyes boring into hers, "is it normal to feel empty inside? Like you're missing a part of yourself and no matter what you do, you can't fill it?"

She cupped his face, ran her hands through his hair, feeling the golden strands slip through her fingers as she gave him a sad smile. "Have I ever told you, my little love, of the origin of love?"

He shook his head, and she settled him into her arms, pulling him onto her lap as she wrapped her arms around him and sunk down into the couch. The sun was shining bright over the Pacific, casting its rays across the water making it glisten like diamonds. She pressed a kiss against his temple and began to sing. 

She sang of the beginning, when the world was such a different place. When the children of the sun and the earth and the moon were still whole. She sang of the gods' fear and how they had cut them down and scattered them away. She sang of the loneliness and hurt, of broken halves eternally searching. She didn't sing of Patroclus though, she left the song of Achilles untouched, but even so, she could see it in his young eyes that he understood.

"So I'm missing my other half?" He asked, turning those emerald eyes to her.

"We all are my love," she whispered, pressing another kiss to his hair, "but you'll find him. You just have to have faith."

"Him? But what if it's a girl?"

She barked out a laugh, the sun dancing in her eyes as she smoothed her hands down his arms. "Of course it's a _he,"_ she answered, mirth still dancing on her tongue. "Oh my little love, do you not know? You are a child of the sun, bright and brilliant, _radiant."_

"But isn't that wrong, mom? For a boy to love a boy?"

"Poppycock," she said with a wave of her hand. "My darling, did you not hear anything I just said? Once there were three sexes, and one was like two men glued up back to back, the children of the sun. The gods did not create three sexes for two of them to be _wrong._ Humans so easily forget what they want to forget, to choose the narrative that best fits their interests. They are _scared,_ my dear heart, scared and prideful. The children of the moon so easily forget that they are part sun, part earth, part daughter, part son."

"Oh." Achilles fell silent for a moment, and they sat quietly, watching the waves crash against the sand. "But, how will I know him?"

"You'll know him, my love," she said, fingers tracing the thread flowing from his finger. "You'll know him by the sound of his voice, the light in his eyes, the curve of his smile. You'll know him by the joy that he brings, the pain of his absence. You'll know him because for the first time in your life you will finally feel whole."

"What does that feel like?"

"What does what feel like, my little love?"

"Being whole."

"The sea," she whispered reverently, "for me, it feels like the sea."

He laughed, turning in her arms to search her face, and she couldn't help but smile back at him. "Your other half can't be the sea," he said incredulously with another laugh. "You said there were three sexes, the children of the sun, the earth, and the moon. Which one are you?"

"None of them, my little prince," she replied, smiling broadly as she brushed his wild, golden hair from his eyes. "I am a goddess of the sea, born of the waves, my soul belongs to the sea."

"No you're not," he said with another laugh, "you're just my mom."

"Yes, my son. I am simply _just_ your mother, nothing more, nothing less."

Achilles was twelve when they officially met. 

They were at another race, only it was a different sort of race. It was at an all-city track meet which encompassed most of the schools in the San Diego Unified School District. It was a whole day of track and field events, half of which they were competing in together. 

They found each other at the end of their first race. Her Achilles was naturally first, and in the years since their first meeting, Patroclus had grown to be quite the runner (even without Zephyr's winds at his heels). Her heart swelled as their eyes locked, an understanding falling between them. The thread between them shimmered in light, the red an exquisite shade. 

"Mom, mom!" he called to her, dragging the poor boy across the field at the conclusion of the ceremony. 

She smiled at them as they approached, arms open to offer her boys congratulations. Patroclus almost placed, but it mattered not to her son who placed half his medals around the other boy's neck. Achilles fell into her embrace, vibrating out of his skin as he pulled back to present Patroclus to her.

"Mom, meet Patroclus," He exclaimed, all but shaking the boy as he shoved him in front of her.

Settling a hand on his shoulder, she attempted to calm her son before taking the boy's hand to shake. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Patroclus," she said, smiling bright as she took in her boys.

"You too, ma'am," he said, eyes flitting to the ground as he toed the dirt nervously. Her smile faltered, wondering how much he remembered, or if he was just naturally shy. 

"Mom, mom," Achilles said, excitement bubbling out of him as he continued to bounce on his feet, completely unaware of Patroclus' apprehension. "His parents aren't here, mom's not around and dad's on a war council or something, could he come to lunch with us?"

Patroclus' eyes snapped up at her, darting between the two of them before settling somewhere just beyond her right shoulder. "I- I don't mean to impose, ma'am-"

"Nonsense," she said, cutting him off with a wave. "You are no imposition. Any friend of Achilles is welcome to join us."

Achilles beamed at her, draping an arm around Patroclus and pulled him close. "Just him, mom. I just want him."

A fierce blush crossed Patroclus' face, but he leaned into Achilles' embrace, fingers twinning with his.

Ever since that day, she could barely recall a moment where Patroclus wasn't at her house (not that she was complaining). She loved it, seeing her boys together, _happy._

Achilles was fourteen the first time they kissed.

It was nearing the end of summer, a summer in which Patroclus had practically lived at her house. They had been inseparable that summer. It was the first (of many) summer his father had allowed him to stay with them. They had spent most of it rolling in the waves La Jolla bay or running through the trails of Torrey Pines. 

They were sitting on the beach that day, surfboards discarded and toes in the sand as the surf rolled around them. She had watched them from the house, heads pulled together discussing everything and nothing at all, and then Patroclus leaned in and kissed him. When he drew back, it had taken Achilles a moment to register what just happened. Suddenly he stiffened, body drawn tight as a bow string, and the next thing she knew, he had leapt to his feet and was already across the sand, face blazing red.

"Achilles," she called as he raced up to stairs and pushed past her. His steps faltered. He turned to meet her eyes, face flushing even redder before rushing into the house.

She was brought back to another time, on another shore, so many, _many_ years ago. They were of the same age back then, younger still perhaps, the first time _that_ Patroclus had kissed her Achilles. She hadn't approved back then, in fact, _that_ Achilles had run for entirely different reasons (namingly the fear of her wrath). There was no reason for _this_ Achilles to run though. She had made it perfectly clear in their past two years of friendship that she approved, _vehemently,_ of their budding relationship. 

Turning her gaze back to the surf, Patroclus sat stunned, too lost and bewildered to move. With a sigh, she cast another glance toward the doors house and crossed over the sand to settle in the space her son had vacated.

"Don't be disheartened, dear child," she said, brushing ocean salt crusted hair from his eyes.

"You saw?"

"I did."

"Oh my god," he cried, slumping against his knees as he buried his head in his arms. "He must hate me now, I'm sorry Miss Thetis."

"Nonsense, my dear," she said, pulling him into a hug. “Do you not know? That the two of you are bound by the red thread of fate.”

Patroclus hiccuped, shoulders trembling as he tried to find his voice. "He- he ran away, Miss Thetis!"

"That he did," she said, amused. Oh this foolish son of hers, running after getting the _one_ thing he'd ever wanted.

"Was it wrong? I thought… it's just…" Patroclus shuddered in her arms, biting back a cry as tears spilled from his eyes.

"Oh no, my dear, not wrong. Never wrong."

"He must think I'm a freak or something, kissing another boy. Who does that?"

Thetis sighed. Foolish mortals. How the children of the moon sought to erase the other two filled her with such fury. " _Symbolon,"_ she said.

"Symbolon?" He repeated, lifting his head to look at her. 

"Yes, my dear," she said, wiping the tears from his eyes. "It is an old concept, as old as the earth. _Soulmates_ as you know it. Do you not know of the origin of love?"

He shook his head no.

"Oh, my child," she said, hand rubbing gently down his back, and she sang once again, of the children of the sun and the earth and the moon.

"So what you're saying is that we're like the children of the sun?"

Thetis smiled. "Yes." _Clever boy._

"Does Achilles know?"

"Yes."

"Then why did he run? Am I not…" the tears welled in his eyes again, the thought too painful.

"You are," she said, fingering the thread which led back to the house.

"How can you be so sure?" He whimpered.

"How can you not?" She asked with a chuckle. "Do you not know, my child, of the stories of old? Of the greatest warrior the Greeks had ever known? The mighty Achilles Pelides and his beloved Patroclus, the very best of men?"

"That's a myth."

"Hm," she hummed. "And yet, all myths are a facsimile of truth."

"You don't truly believe that, do you, Miss Thetis?"

"Oh I believe a many of things," she said, gently stroking his back. "I believe that it must be more than just a mere coincidence that the one person for whom could make my Achilles whole just so _happens_ to be named Patroclus."

Patroclus smiled then, his eyes sparkled with something more than just tears. "He is my everything, Miss Thetis. When I first met him, I had hoped, prayed, that we'd be like the Achilles and Patroclus of legend. That surely the very nature of or names meant that we were meant to be. It was such a silly thought though, because like myth _Achilles, gay?_ It's just so outrageous. He was a _warrior,_ the epitome of _masculinity,_ how could he possibly be gay? So I figured it was just _me,_ there's no way _we_ could be like _them_ and if we were… then what _I_ felt must have been _wrong."_

"Mortals and their arbitrary rules of morality," she said, clicking her tongue in disapproval. "They apply such illogical philosophies to things they know nothing of. What does one's sex have anything to do with their worth? _Nothing._ Let me tell you, Patroclus Menoetides-"

"That's not my name."

She waved him off. "No one sex is _better_ than the others. The children of the moon just _believe_ themselves better, because they are part sun and earth. But this is besides the point, this is not about _them._ What _you_ need to know, is that you and Achilles, are two sides of the same coin. One soul in two bodies. Give him time. He is simply overwhelmed."

Patroclus nodded, mind temporarily soothed. "Thank you, Miss Thetis."

"Well then, Patroclus," she said softly, "none of this Miss Thetis nonsense anymore."

"Huh?"

She smiled, ruffling his hair. "Stop calling me Miss Thetis. I consider you as much my son as I do my Achilles. You are but one soul in two bodies, remember?"

He nodded again. "Oh, well thank you then, _mom,"_ he said and she pressed a kiss to his temple and held him as they watched the surf meet the sand. 

She cannot fathom as to why Achilles ran. He had been seeking his other half for so long, she could not imagine why he would flee from the joining of their souls, but it was not for her to understand. They would work it out in due time, of this she was sure.

She was right, as she normally was. By the time the winter solstice rolled around, they were once again wrapped up in each other. Achilles had apologized for running, he had been overwhelmed (as she had surmised). The shock of suddenly feeling _whole_ had shaken him to his core. 

And thus they existed. One soul spread out in two bodies, and time continued on.

Achilles was sixteen the first time they attempted to have sex to her knowledge.

It was the night of his sixteenth birthday and they had celebrated all day on the beach. Everyone he knew was there, but he had only eyes for one. As the stars came out and the party raged on, he managed to slip away with Patroclus.

Of course she hadn't known what she would walk in on when she swept into his room to bid them a good night. They had frozen in place as she entered, Achilles straddling the naked form of Patroclus, unwrapped before him like a gift, the boy's sex in his hand. They had fumbled then, as she crossed the room and settled at the foot of the bed, faces flushed and eyes wide.

She could smell the lotion coating his hand, her nose wrinkling in distaste. "I do hope you boys have something other than simply _lotion_ if you were planning on anal penetration."

"MOM!" Achilles screeched, collapsing onto Patroclus to bury his face in his pillow. 

"I'm just saying, Achilles," she reprimanded, "I will not have either of you hurting yourselves with your inexperience. You need proper lubrication and preparation to ensure neither of you tear."

"Oh my god," Achilles mumbled from the confines of the pillow.

"The gods can't help you, my son. They are vile and cruel, and care little for the suffering of others." She sighed and grasped his heel in a reaffirming hold. "But you, my son," she said, thumb stroking over the jut of his fibula, "you are nothing like the gods. You will take care to love dear Patroclus properly. You will not hurt him you hear?"

He lifted his head and turned to catch her eye. "I have no intentions of ever hurting him," he stated with conviction.

"Good," she said with a nod. "Now where were we? Oh yes, proper lubrication."

Achilles groaned, dropping his face back into the pillow as she continued her lecture on proper and _safe_ anal penetration. 

"Don't believe what you see on the internet, boys. There is a lot that happens off screen, a lot of cleaning and preparation that is never mentioned nor shown."

"Mom, you know I love you right?" Achilles finally said, pushing himself up and off of Patroclus to sit up next to her. 

"Of course, my son."

"So for the love of all that is good and holy, _please stop,"_ he said shoving at her. "Please leave us alone and never speak of this again."

"Oh," she said, finally registering the look of absolute mortification plastered on both their faces. "I have embarrassed you."

"No shit," Achilles mumbled, dragging a sheet across his lap. 

She bit back a laugh. "That is the plan, my little love," she said, eyes twinkling with delight. 

"Oh for fuck's sake," he exclaimed and Patroclus swatted at him when she smiled wide, lips parting to respond.

"Stop giving her fodder, 'chilles."

Patroclus sat up then, hiding behind Achilles as he looked up to meet her eye. "We'll be safe, mom," he said, chin tucked in the crook of Achilles' neck, "promise."

"Very well, I suppose you can slowly ease into it," she said and Achilles groaned again, "I'll see to it that you boys have everything you need," and with that she swept out of the room.

She was not surprised the next morning when she heard Achilles cursing her name and Patroclus' laughter when they discovered the neatly wrapped present she had left for them. She was also unsurprised when they did not venture out of his room again for the rest of the day and she barely saw them out and about that summer.

Achilles was eighteen the first time they had their first proper fight.

It was their first year away at University, they hadn't gone terribly far (just up the coast to Los Angeles, really) but even so, it had been nearly two months since she'd last seen her boys. She had been looking forward to their return (as life had been terribly dull without them), but then Achilles had returned. Alone. A day early. Slamming through the front door like a typhoon, and bringing with him a trail of destruction.

Before she even had the chance to speak, he had grabbed the poor vase of flowers (she had just set moments before) from the sideboard and sent it crashing to the ground. She watched, with an eyebrow quirked as the ancient vase shattered, spilling delicate petals of yellow and blue across the floor. 

He screamed, clutching at his hair as he bellowed at his reflection. The thread around his finger was pulled taut, pulsing as it bled red.

Oh how beautiful he was. Like the raging sea in a storm. His fury had always been unmatched, and for a moment she saw her _aristos achaion,_ her fierce warrior who had single handedly cut down ten thousand Trojans. It had been _years_ (millennia really) since she had last witnessed the rage of her beautiful Achilles, terrifying and awe inspiring, and knew instantly the source of his rage.

"Where is Patroclus?" She asked, voice cutting through his violent screams as his fist connected with the mirror in the hall. 

He froze. Hand bleeding red as he turned towards her, eyes blazing like copper set aflame. She could read the anger, the jealousy, the _despair,_ in them. "Not here," he snapped, and she swept across the room, taking his bleeding hand into her own, brushing away the shards of glass as he bled all over her once pristine floor.

"Oh my sweet boy," she said, pressing a lingering kiss to his wound, tasting the metallic tang of his mortality. She swiped her tongue across his knuckles, felt the flesh stitch itself back together before dropping his hand to pull him into her arms. "What happened?"

"Pat," he choked out before collapsing against her, a sob tearing through his body, "I'm not enough for him anymore."

"I-" she started and then stopped. This was utter nonsense, there didn't exist a world in which Achilles wouldn't be _enough_ for Patroclus. They were soul bound, only made fully whole in the presence of the other. He was the sun to Patroclus' moon. "How so, my little love?"

"Briseis," he spat, as if the name was a vile, bitter thing in his mouth. 

_Briseis._ She had heard of this Briseis from Patroclus. She was a new friend, lived down the hall from them, was also pre-med and thereby in a majority of Patroclus' classes. "Oh."

“I hate that fucking whore,” he half sobbed, half snarled, and she wrapped him up tighter, gently stroking his hair as he trembled in her arms.

A part of her agreed, what an impudent girl to think she could come between them? But such thoughts are needless, for this Briseis could never come between them, their bond was too strong, woven by the fates during a time when such things mattered. "You have, and will always be enough for him, my son. Remember that you are one soul on two bodies, bound by the red thread of fate. She is all but inconsequential, a mere spectator in the grand scheme of your lives."

"She _wants_ him, mom," he growled, clutching at her shirt. "You should see the way she flirts with him, constantly with the touching and not so subtle _seduction._ Fucking whore."

"Hm," she hummed, guiding him towards the couch, the door still left open following the rage of Achilles. It stood wide and gaping, an open invitation for any to enter, but who would dare enter the home of a goddess uninvited? "What does it matter what this _Briseis_ wants? She could hardly be blamed for Himeros' curse. My little love, tell me, what are the four types of love?"

"What?" He slurred, as she pulled him down onto the couch with her. 

She held him like she did ten years ago, when he had asked her about emptiness and loneliness, and she sang to him the origin of love. "The four types of love, Achilles, what are they? I know I've taught you this before."

"Storge," he mumbled, "Philla, Eros, and Agape."

"Very good, my son. And what is Patroclus to you?"

"All of them, _philtataos,"_ he said, still trembling.

"Want what are you to him?"

"All of them, _symbolon,"_ he choked out, wiping at his eyes.

"Hm," she hummed again, stroking his hair as she held him. "And what, pray tell, is _she_ to him?"

Achilles stilled. He sucked in a breath and clutched at her hands. "A fucking whore," he spat, but then shook his head. "Philla at most."

"Very good, my son. So tell me, what is this _really_ about, Achilles?"

"He wants to invite her down for Thanksgiving," he said with a shuddering breath.

"And you don't."

"Of course I don't! I don't want that fucking whore in my house," he yelled, pulling out of her arms.

"Achilles," she said, placing her hands on his shoulders, "why in the seven heavens would he invite her to stay _here?"_

"I don't know!" He screamed, "because we have like three guest rooms? Because _he_ was going to stay here? Or at least I assumed he was. I don't even know if his dad's going to be in town."

"General Opus will be in town," she confirmed.

"Oh, well I mean, Patroclus would probably stay here anyway, right?"

"I'm sure it's generally understood that he would, the General and his new wife will most likely be celebrating with her family."

"So you see," he said, gesturing wildly, "how I would have been under the impression that he'd be _here_ with _us._ But then he had to go an invite that fucking whore."

"I will tell him that she is not invited to my home. Would this alleviate your distress?"

"No, wait! You can't do that!" He wailed, tears springing anew to his eyes as he clutched her hands frantically. "He told me I was being ridiculous, and that if I refused to let her come, then he would stay in LA with _her._ He chose _her_ over **_me_ ** _."_

"WHAT!?" She screamed, eyes flashing gold and the ocean surged with her rage. How dare he. How dare this adopted _son_ of hers refuse to come home. To see _her?_ After everything she's given him. After allowing him into her heart. Pushing him aside she grabbed for her phone, violently tapping at her screen.

The ringing of the phone reverberated her in her hand, as did the faint swelling of the violins in Debussy's Le Mer from the door. Her head snapped to the door as Achilles unfurled from the couch pushing himself to his feet. And there, framed in the open maw of the door, slightly hunched over with his phone in his hand, stood Patroclus. 

"Achilles, what the fuck," he said, the singing of the violins ceased as she ended the call and rounded the couch.

"Patroclus," she said, crossing the room to take his face roughly in her hand, "explain yourself."

"I- mom, it's not what it sounds like," he managed to stammer, squirming out of her hold.

"Then please enlighten me," she said, words clipped and arms crossed, "because it sounds to me you were willing to discard _your family_ for a filthy wench."

"Okay, first off, she's not a wench or a _fucking whore_ ," he said, sending Achilles a pointed look. "Or at least I don't think she's a whore, either way that's not the point. I wasn't actually going to not come home, like I would willingly incur the wrath of a goddess. Besides, I _want_ us all to be together for the holidays. And I was going to ask you if it'd be alright to bring a friend, but then he just ran off."

"Oh, I _just_ ran off," Achilles snarled, eyes blazing. "That's fucking rich. You know that? Fuck you, I didn't _just run off._ **_You_ ** fucking told _me_ you'd rather spend Thanksgiving with that fucking whore than _us."_

"I didn't mean it like that!"

"So how _did_ you mean it, Patroclus?" He demanded, shaking in righteous anger, "because I don't see how else I was supposed to interpret _'stop being ridiculous, Achilles, you know she's not going home for Thanksgiving. We can't just leave her here alone. If you're going to be so adamant against her coming with us then I'll just stay up here with her.'"_

"Okay, yes," Patroclus conceded, "I can see how that can be taken the wrong way, but I was bluffing."

"You were _bluffing,"_ Achilles screamed, "you were fucking bluffing. So what? Just manipulate Achilles until he did what _you_ wanted? Is that it? What the fuck, Pat!?"

"Oh my god, Achilles, no," Patroclus said, hand rubbing across his face before dropping unceremoniously down to his side. "How could you say something like that? I would never. Is this what you think of me?"

Achilles jolted. Calming marginally at the look of utter devastation and disbelief painted on Patroclus' face. Thetis took Patroclus by the arm and pulled him into the house, closing the door behind her before pushing him towards the couch. 

"Sit," she ordered, looking between her two boys, eyes narrowing when neither one of them made any attempt to move. "The two of you are out of control right now, and you _will_ sit, and talk this out and then go downstairs and make up. I refuse to let this continue! Your thread is strained and weeping blood. You are _symbolon,_ the perfect union of a child of the sun, do not let Zeus have the satisfaction of severing that bond again."

Achilles faltered, eyes growing wide as her words settled upon him. His eyes then darted between her and Patroclus' despondent face, and with all the grace of a victorian heroine, he collapsed back down onto the couch, throwing an arm over his face. "What am I supposed to think, Patroclus?" He bemoaned. "You... you spend all your time with that fucking whore and don't even pay attention to me anymore."

"I- what are you even talking about, Achilles?" Patroclus huffed, flopping down next to him and he pulled Achilles legs onto his lap by force of habit. He began running his hands up and down Achilles' calves, fingers digging into tight muscles as she glared at the shoes currently resting on her _white_ couch. "I pay attention to you all the time, you're like literally the _only_ person I pay _any_ attention to. Bris and I _study_ together, I mean sure we're _friends_ but like _you're_ my only focus, the one I come home to at the end of the day."

"Right, and you stand me up for dinner more times than I can count, and you're like barely ever in the room, and by the time you do 'come home' to me I'm already half dead to the world because _some people_ actually have to be up in the morning or their coach will never shut the fuck up. AND!" Achilles exclaimed, sitting up to point an accusatory finger in Patroclus' face. "You totally ditched me when we were supposed to go to K-town for karaoke and I ended up stuck with Hector and his lame ass brother and Paris' even shitter sidepiece who can't hold a tune to save her fucking life. And Machy ordered too much fucking soju and I had to take one for the team because Paris and Helen are fucking lightweights which ended up with me dueting Under Pressure with Hector because _you_ weren't there to sing it with me."

"Oh my god, are you still on that?" Patroclus cried, slapping his hand away and shoving his legs off of him. Thetis breathed a sigh of relief when those _shoes_ were finally off her couch. "It was one, on a fucking Tuesday, and two I had a _midterm_ the next day. I _told_ you I couldn't go."

"Boys!" She yelled, clapping her hands together to get their attention. "You are getting wildly off topic, fix _this,"_ she insisted, gesturing between them. 

They stared at each other for a moment before Patroclus deflated and dropped back against the couch. "Achilles, I'm sorry if it seems like I don't have time for you anymore," he said, shuffling closer to him and reached out to untangle the mess Achilles made of his hair. "I just, everything is just so much more stressful than high school. There's just _so much_ work, and studying with Bris helps because we're in almost _all_ the same classes."

Achilles scoffed and pulled away from him. " _Studying,"_ he said with air quotes.

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Patroclus asked, taken aback.

"Oh cut the bullshit, Pat," Achilles snarled, roughly gathering up all his hair to tie in a sloppy bun so Patroclus wouldn't have an excuse to touch it again. "I _see_ you two when you're _studying._ The fucking whore is always practically in your lap, pressing herself all up on you while you guys laugh about whatever bullshit, because I'm pretty sure bio isn't _funny."_

"I was- we were-" Patroclus stammered, when realization dawned upon him. "Oh fuck. _Achilles,"_ he said, and then scrambled across the couch to pull Achilles into his arms.

Achilles broke then. All the fight leaving his body as he crumpled into Patroclus' arms, sobbing. 

"Oh, 'chilles, I'm so sorry," Patroclus whispered, clutching at him as if he'd dissipate if he let go. "I didn't realize, I just… I don't know. I've never really had _friends_ like that before, you know, outside of you... And I just thought… I thought it was _normal_ friend behavior."

Achilles scoffed and Patroclus held him tighter. Hands rubbing up and down his arms, down his back, touching everywhere in an attempt to piece him back together as Achilles continued to tremble in his arms. The pulsing of their thread calmed and the dark bleeding red gave way to the rich, glistening red of freshly spilled blood.

"For what it's worth," Patroclus offered, "we really were just studying."

"You-" Achilles wailed, and she was reminded of the inconsolable little boy of five when Patroclus had been taken from him. He buried his face in Patroclus' shoulder, shaking uncontrollably and he held on for dear life. "I- fuck, Patroclus, I thought… I thought I was _losing_ you."

"Never, Achilles, never," Patroclus said, and then he was crying too. "You're it for me, 'chilles. Just you. I'll never want anyone but you. _Symbolon_ remember? Soulmates. Only you, Achilles, only you. Nobody can ever make me feel the way you do."

Achilles shook his head, burrowing deeper into Patroclus' embrace. "I just… I didn't know what to think anymore. Fuck, Pat, you're never there anymore. I can't… I can't even remember the last time we even fucked."

"Halloween," Patroclus replied without even missing a beat. "It was Halloween, and gods, you were so hot, and I've replayed that night all month. Gods what I would do to get you back in that outfit, and trust me, Achilles, we haven't had sex in so long not because I don't want to. It's just… with midterms and everything, I was going crazy. I don't have time for _anything,_ and fuck, Achilles, I missed you _so much,_ but like you said, by the time I ever made it back to the room you were already out most of the time. I knew your schedule, and I knew it wasn't fair to wake you, but gods, Achilles, please know I _missed_ you."

"I thought it'd be so different," Achilles sniffled, "when we got to college. I guess I just thought we'd have all the time in the world _together,_ you know? Because we'd finally be I'm the same place at the same time, not in different schools, not living ten miles apart, I thought it'd be just like summer, but like _forever._ Just you and me against the world, but then _she_ showed up… and I barely get to even see you anymore."

"I see you all the time," Patroclus murmured, clinging to Achilles.

"It doesn't count if I'm passed out."

"I really am sorry, 'chilles," he said, cupping Achilles' face, swiping away his tears and covering him with tender kisses, "I never meant to hurt you like this, baby. Never. You're my _everything."_

"I-" Achilles exhaled with a shuddering breath, "gods, Pat, I... I thought I was _losing_ you. I thought that Thanksgiving break would make everything right again. That it'd just be the two of us... that we'd come home and just be one entity again _,_ but then you had to go and insist that fucking whore come and I thought… I thought that I just wasn't _enough_ for you anymore."

"Hey, no, baby," Patroclus cooed, pressing more kisses against his tear stained cheeks. "You are. You are all I've ever wanted. All I'll ever need. I just thought that Bris might be lonely all by herself. I didn't consider your feelings, I'm sorry." Achilles hiccuped and Patroclus released his face to hold him close again. "But hey, she's not coming alright? I immediately rescinded the invitation and told her it was probably a bad idea for her to come the second you took off. I couldn't bear it, baby, I just couldn't. The thought of being _without_ you burned. It tore me apart. I was just bluffing, I'd _never_ choose anyone over you, you _have_ to know that."

"I-" Achilles nodded, the words getting stuck in his throat. Another sob escaped and Patroclus was gently hushing him again, wiping at his endless tears as he continued to hold him close. 

They stayed like that, sobbing in each other's arms for longer than she could count. Long after she had cleaned up the mess Achilles left in his rage, long after Helios had driven his chariot beyond the horizon and Selene's had risen high into the night. 

It was their first fight, the first one which really shook the foundations of their relationship, but it wasn't the last. Achilles' jealousy was always something fierce, and Patroclus, well Patroclus had the kind of charm which always seemed to endear people to him. Still, at the end of day, it would always be them. Together. Standing against the world (even if Achilles wished that everyone would die so that he and Patroclus could conquer the world alone). 

Achilles was almost twenty-two when she finally met that home-wrecking wench, Briseis.

It all came to a head at graduation. There was no avoiding it, despite all of Patroclus' efforts. He wasn't wrong in trying to prevent the meeting, ever since that first fight, her disapproval of Briseis had been palpable. Patroclus, true to his nature, had gone to great lengths to ensure that _nobody_ was to incur _the wrath of a goddess._

It was absolute chaos, graduation day. After laying the leis of red and gold on her boys, Patroclus had grabbed Achilles' hands and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, before he was already being dragged away. 

"I'm so sorry, baby," he said, reluctantly releasing Achilles' hands, "I gotta go get my card, but I promise I'll make it back before your speech."

Achilles didn't say anything as he was dragged off into the crowd. He just stared blankly at the space Patroclus once inhabited. 

"So that was her?"

"The Trojan whore?" He spat, "yeah."

"She's unremarkably common."

"Thinks she's the shit because she got into Yale for medical school."

"Our Patroclus got into Yale too, amongst others."

"Yeah, but she's _going."_

"So? Who cares? No matter how one polish a turd, at the end of the day a turd is still a turd," she said with a wave of her hand as they made their way across the campus to the Annenberg tent. "Our Patroclus doesn't need something like a _prestigious_ school to elevate his name. He is the very best of men, a Prince amongst swine."

Achilles laughed, nodding in agreement. "Did you know, she had the audacity to beg him to go to Yale with her."

"Oh? And what did beloved Patroclus say?"

"Pat laughed and said that Connecticut was no place for these abs," he said patting his stomach. "That we needed the California sun to properly thrive. Oh gods, mom, you should have seen the face she made. Her with her sanctimonious bullshit like she's picking Yale because it's _better._ You remember the interviews right, mom? That place is toxic."

"It is certainly not ideal, and I like the idea of keeping my boys close."

"I'm sure that factored into his decision too," Achilles said giving her brief hug when they reached the tent. She watched as he found his place on the stage and found a seat, saving one for Patroclus just in case.

True to his word, Patroclus did make it to the Annenberg tent before Achilles' speech. Achilles hadn't noticed him when he first started speaking, press smile at the ready, resigned to the fact that Patroclus probably wouldn't be there. It was near the end of his speech when Achilles finally noticed him, and his true smile emerged.

Patroclus beamed with pride at her side, the thread binding them reflected their joy, ablaze in an unmatched hue of brilliant red. In a fit of madness (or perhaps not, as this _was_ Achilles), as he finished speaking, before the crowd had a chance to applaud him, he rounded the podium and pulled a ring from his pocket, asking Patroclus to marry him. Patroclus was stunned, the crowd (and Achilles) waited with bated breath for him to respond (even though everyone already knew it was a yes).

"Oh my god," Patroclus finally said, shaking himself from his stupor. "You're fucking unbelievable."

"Yes," Achilles agreed, grinning wide, "few can compare, but you, _philtataos,_ you are beyond measure. You are the very best of men, you bring out the very best in me. I am only half the man I am because of you, so say you'll complete me, _officially,_ before god and the state, for as long as we both shall live."

Patroclus scoffed. "Longer still, Achilles," he said, making his way up to the stage. "If you think death can part us, you are sorely mistaken. We are but one soul in two bodies. But, a thousand times yes, I will be yours. I will follow you wherever you go, and forever call you mine."

And so, three thousand and two hundred years after their death, two thousand six hundred and eighty five years after the reunion of their souls, and twenty three years after reincarnating, Achilles and Patroclus are one again united under both the eyes of the gods and men. May Hera, wherever she is, bless this union and the fates be kind. May Achilles find the happiness in this life he was denied in the last and my he never be given a reason to kill Hector. 

* * *

Thetis raises her glass in a toast to the greatest love story the world has ever known. She is met by stunned silence. Brisies, the undignified filthy wench is staring at her with wide, horrified eyes. Hector is opening and closing his mouth like a fish while his Andromache hides a laugh behind her hand. Patroclus is busy hiding his face in Achilles' neck as he often does when he's embarrassed, and then Achilles lets out a laugh and the room erupts in echo. 

"Oh my god, mom," he says, petting Patroclus' hair as he continues to shake with laughter. "You forgot the time I-"

"Nope!" Patroclus screams, jerking up to silence Achilles with a kiss. "No more, I don't think our friends need more anecdotes. Pretty sure mom covered all the bases."

Thetis smiled, "I certainly do have a good number of _vases."_

Achilles grins and Patroclus buries his face back into his shoulder. "Gods no. No thank you, mom, if it's what I think it is."

"Oh it's totally what you think it is, darling," Achilles says, smile growing even wider. "You've seen mom's basement."

"I've sent a few over to your new place," she says with a smile.

"We are not displaying those vases in our home."

"Oh come on, Pat, how can we _not_ display three thousand year old artifacts? Museums would kill to get their hands on those."

"BECAUSE!" Patroclus exclaims, "in at least two of them, it depicts me grabbing your cock, and somehow I already know which ones mom sent over."

"Like you don't love it, grabbing my cock."

"Oh my god," Patroclus groaned, "I hate you both."

"No you don't," Achilles says, pressing a kiss to his hair, "you love us. And you're stuck with us for all eternity, you vowed it. Even Death cannot part is."  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Random things of note:
> 
> Thetis moves to La Jolla because I cannot see her living in Oceanside, CA where the main Marine Coprs base is located.  
> I have a deep profound love for [The Origin of Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N2-QxyhAsT8).  
> Thetis really HATES the heteronorm of the 21st Century.  
> By the time they're in High School, Patroclus has also moved down the the Mira Mesa area because he dad is now at Miramar  
> Speaking of his dad, his dad is not a bad guy, probably not the _best_ father as work always came first, but most certainly not the asshole he was in the book/myth. Pat's mom is not around (I'm going with dead but it's never explicitly mentioned).  
> They go to USC for college if it wasn't obvious (HOW COULD I RESIST MAKING THEM TROJANS!?).  
> When she mentions Briseis and Himeros' curse, it is in reference to Himeros, the god of sexual desire and _unrequited_ love.  
> Patroclus' ringtone for Thetis is totally Debussy's Le Mer because he's a nerd and loves his sea goddess mama.  
> Achilles' totally dressed as Warrior Achilles for Halloween, and Pat 100% flipped his skirt and fucked him.  
> I do actually really love Briseis, but alas, Achilles and Thetis doesn't. Poor girl.  
> Thetis 100% has and painted ancient pottery with Achilles and Patroclus and the vases she gifts them for their wedding present is 100% [this one](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/434042659133456384/798249200386965524/Pederastic-scene_0.jpg).
> 
> You can find me over on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/ishxallxgood)


End file.
